


"Touch me and you lose."

by WavesOver



Series: 410 Prompt challenge [33]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dom/sub, Jou attempts seductive dance, M/M, Malik's a power bottom/rides the D, Malik's in control and Jou lets him, Smut, it somehow works, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WavesOver/pseuds/WavesOver
Summary: He doesn’t know if this…thingthey have is good for them or not, but he just can’t help himself with the other blond.
Relationships: Marik Ishtar/Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler
Series: 410 Prompt challenge [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811707
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	"Touch me and you lose."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RelaySoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RelaySoul/gifts).



> Here's a little fic for Jou's birthday/ a gift for RelaySoul for inspiring this piece. Hope y'all have a nice day and stay safe.

He didn’t know how it came to be, these games, this… _thing_ he had with Ishtar, not the cold, stoic sister or the deceptively sweet eldest, but the manipulative son of a bitch that almost fucking _killed_ his best friend, temporarily killed him, and did so much more messed up shit.

Granted, he’s a _hot_ manipulative bastard, but still. The hell.

But like a drug he keeps coming, lured by sex and lust and having the fucking pretty boy have control, telling him what he can and can’t do like a doll. ( ~~Not a dog. Definitely not a dog.~~ )

Like now. With him at the hotel room, a pretty tame hotel room all things considered, with a fake dungeon scene, complete with lights disguised as torches, chains, whips, and an iron maiden that he _hopes_ fake.

And him on his knees, in front of the bitch in question.

He’s wearing this really sexy outfit, like latex pants that do nothing to hide his cock, a short crop-top like what he wore in battle city, and bangles on his arms. And boots. Boots with heels and half-way up his thigh and…

Like he said, sexy as hell. Siting on the recliner like a king on his throne.

“So,” he said, propping his head against his arm, a smug-ass grin on his face, “what does my pet want to do this time?”

If it was anyone else, he’d punch ‘em. Heck, he’d probably do _worse_ if it’s Kaiba in that chair.

But it’s not. And he can leave anytime he wants. Because this isn’t real. Not, like, real-real, life-and-death thing…

No, this is a fantasy. A safe place, where he doesn’t _have_ to do things like the outside.

So he sits, on his knees, looking up like the pet he is, and begs.

“Master…” he starts, pathetic and needy like he knows Malik likes (and him too, in that secret part of himself) “I want to please you. I want to feel master use me like the worthless slave I am. I

He smirks, like the asshole he is.

“I suppose I’ll grant that to you, my dear…” he purred, pushing his head off his hand before continuing, “ _but_ how about we play a _game_ …”

Shittttt, what kind of game is he talkin’ about. Last time they had a “game” his ass was sore for weeks.

“A game?” he asked stupidly, like the dumb pet he is.

He nods slowly, before lounging back into his chair.

“How about…. Getting me hard in… oh, about thirty minutes?”

Oh, is that all? He bows, agreeing, thinking this’ll be the easiest game ever, going forward in a crawling motion to suck him off, before he interrupts.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, looking at his nails like the diva he is.

“Touch me and you lose,” Malik said, giving a dismissive look. A dismissive look that has his pants tight and his mouth wet.

His pants tighten at that.

“So, how’z I suppose to-“ Malik cuts him off with the crop head to his lips.

“I said you can’t touch me, I never said anything about yourself,” he replied, giving a smug grin.

He glares up. Fucking bitch _knows_ he’s not good at this kind of shit.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to rake hie brain, trying to figure how to do that, before he stumbles on one. It may not work, and he may look like an idiot, but it’s the best he’s got.

He goes to his shirt, being slow and “sensual” like those ladies in pornos and not like the idiot that he is, before giving himself a hug as his arms rise up, crossing over as he starts unbuttoning his shirt (he just got off work and wasn’t going to go back home when he can get his freak on), trying to keep calm as takes off each button one. By. One.

He keeps the shirt closed even as he gets more and more buttons off, trying for that sexy air, before shrugging out of it, exposing his undershirt, the air cool as he lets it fall to the floor.

He kicked it away, making sure the floor was clear before brushing his fingers against the sides of his chest, making him hard with the eyes trained on him, viewing him like some exotic creature. He goes for his own nipples, teasing them until they are rock hard, easily visible under his shirt, before hands trail down, going to the edge of his shirt before pulling it over, exposing himself more to those searing eyes. At least that’s what he thinking, judging from the pressure in the air, that feeling of being watched he’s honed since he was a kid walking home in the crappy ass neighborhood he grew up in.

He then worked off his belt, doing little circles with his hips, partially to add to the sexiness of it all, but mostly to help him get off his belt, the swishes helping him gently coaxing the belt out of the holes in his waistline. And when he finally got it out, he threw it away. Away and hopefully with no damages.

He then turned around, both for mystery and to see that he gets out of his work pants without damaging anything, these cost a pretty penny.

After finally working off the fucking buttons and that _stupid ass zipper_ , he shimmied out, glad to be out of them.

As he kicked out of them, having them join the pile of clothes, he realized that he’s here. In his boxers. In front of the sexiest bitch he knows. Who’s watching him. and he’s supposed to get him hard.

He froze, all those doubts and insecurities that he either had or other people told him decided to gang-pile him at this moment, and he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to at that moment. He didn’t have a good ass or a sense of rhythm or anything like that. How could he even-

He heard a cough and h was brough back to the moment.

He turned his head to Malik, who was giving him a worried look, which is… nice. In a weird way. Not bad. Just… off.

And somehow that care from his fuckbuddy renewed his drive. So he wasn’t the sexiest. It’s not like they’re here. He was. And he was going to give it his all.

He started grooving to the sound of a funky song that Anzu played once, a song that he always had to fight the urge to dance. Well, fuck that, he’s dancing to the beat now and nobody can stop him.

He started moving his shoulders, doing little slides on the floor as he moved from side to side, shaking his ass to the beat, before doing a wave thing with his body. He did that for a bit, not knowing what time it is but _reallllly_ not giving a fuck.

And at about the half-way mark of the song playing in his head, he started working his boxers off, shaking his hips to the beat as they slide down, until they were at his feet. He then kicked them off at the 3/4ths mark, which had him doin’ the helicopter while dancing without anything covering his ass.

And when that song ended, he did a kick-ass pose (or at least, it looked cool when other people did it), his fist in the air as he faced Malik.

There was silence.

Fuck.

He bends down, might as well get the socks off, but then he was stopped by a pair of dark hands.

He looked up to see hypnotic violet eyes staring back into his own.

“I think you’ve deserve a reward, don’t you _pet_?” he said before pushing him on the bed.

Funny, he didn’t even know he was near the bed.

He started by ripping off his socks, throwing them off in some random direction before crawling over him, looking like a cat prowling as he moved in front of his rock-hard dick, giving him that damn smug grin.

He then takes his dick and starts sucking, his tongue giving languish licks, like he was a really good ice-cream, or some honey that’s dribbled down the spoon and he wants to get it _all_. With periods in between where he puts the head in his mouth, his teeth catching the foreskin and grinding it between them, in a way that _should_ have caused pain, but for some reason it only _adds_ to everything, to the illusion of Malik as his master who can even control his sense of pain and pleasure.

And the contrast between his own red dick and the rich brown hues of Malik, the way he looks so in control even when he’s the one with a dick in his mouth… It was no wonder he got off so fast.

He takes his pa- no, that’s not the right word. It’s not anything so normal and pushing them down like a regular person. no, it was the fabric is now liquid, running off his legs, revealing the object within. As well as his _reaction_ to his dance.

“Now then,” Malik says as he walks up to his spent form, “I think the winner deserves a _special_ reward, don’t you think?”

He then sank onto his dick, already prepped ahead of time, from the looks of it, until his ass hit his legs.

Which means that he was planning this the entire time.

“Seems like ya were gonna do this already,” he grumbled, trying to keep his mind off the heat surrounding him, trying to stay some-what-himself, “So how’s this a reward?”

Malik gave a dark chuckle, with little wiggles all around his cock as he bit his lip, “Because this way, you don’t have a cock ring on for the rest of the night.”

Yeahhh, that... that’s worse.

He then started moving up and down, taking every other thought out of his mind except the warm that surrounding him, the lovely, _lovely_ friction that’s riding up and down his dick and those pale, lilac eyes that are looking down at him.

He tries to lift his arms, to touch the ethereal being that’s letting him in like this, but he takes them and pulls him over his head, with him more like a fuckable pole than a lover at this moment. Which, you know, is sexy in its own way, being used like this by someone so fantastical, and yet so real.

He comes first, his mouth making some high-pitched sound as he’s ridden, Malik not stopping until both their chests are covered in white.

They work his dick out, cleaning up as best at their tired minds could before they go back into the bed, the comforter having a noticeable wet spot where they cleaned off the spunk.

“So…” the blond asked, his dark finger making circles around his chest, “How’s that for a birthday present?”


End file.
